Don't Cry For Me
by Dirty Liza
Summary: School-aged Piper, Phoebs and Prue are kidnapped. A nasty little story with short chapters! [young people! please read warnings - or don't tell your parents]
1. Default Chapter

WARNING: This story contains many million references to the use of illicit drugs and some of the consequences of their use (OD's, murder, death sentences)….an all round nasty sounding story! This is told from the perspective of the junkie and there is probably a tonne of swearing.  Not recommended for anyone younger than 15 years.   
Disclaimer: This story is based on the TV Series, Charmed, that was created by Aaron Spelling and Constance M. Burge. The three sisters are owned by Spelling television, the rest are allll mine! BTW: The effect of drugs on the mind is represented by the opposing styles of writing throughout the story and the flipping between past and present. So yes…the screwed up style was intentional, and if you get headaches reading this type of story you may need a few aspirin. =)   
Dedication: I was once told by my English teacher that "stories where the lead protagonist is not named are frustratingly annoying".  I totally disagree, so I wrote this for him…ha haaaa. Don't Cry For Me 

_Please don't judge me……………not until you know everything I know, and have seen everything that I have seen._

_Don't ask any questions. Don't even try to understand me._

_Just listen. _

_…Please listen._


	2. Don't Cry For Me 1980

At the beginning it was a game. My mates and I were using by the age of 13. It was our way to transform our restricted lives of parents and teachers into a kingdom of freedom…. an autonomousworld with no rules and regulations. 

After time our 'game' became a dependency. And why not? With the drugs we were transported to a fantasy life that suspended time and space. A world where everyone was accepted. Like I had found my way, getting loaded made me feel nothing, everything and anything. But I especially liked the nothing part. The absence of feeling anything but drug-induced euphoria, the feeling of total ease with myself and others, and the absence of any pain was what I liked.

  
By the time we were all officially branded as 'high school dropouts' and been kicked out of home, the drugs were all we had left. I was so messed up from the crap I was putting in my system, I didn't know my head from a hole in the ground. But I didn't want to change. Rebellion was bliss. With glazed eyes and lucid minds we had found our escape from the assholic world we were trapped in. It was a mockery of all limitations and confines. Our silent, one-fingered salute to our shitty lives.

*****1980*****

It was almost time for summer break in the year of 1980. Steve and Craig had been my best mates since we were 5. We had used a lot of drugs before, but this summer we started getting into the heavy shit. Our minds were lucent and dull. We were restless.

It was Steve who had the idea to kidnap Mrs Williams. Our motive was simple – she had gotten all of us expelled from school in the last year. It was just a straightforward plan. We traded in Craig's heap of shit car and bought a van. Everyone knew that Mrs Williams waited everyday outside the school until 4:15pm for her husband to pick her up. We would wait until the area was deserted and then shove her in the van and tie her up. Mrs Williams wasn't exactly what you'd call 'muscular' and it would take nothing to restrain her. We found a deserted warehouse and planned to keep her there for a few days. We were never going to kill her….. 

It sounded fun at the time, you know? Just another part of our game. Something to do. We never planned to take the 3 kids…they were just in the way. Three young sisters. They changed my life. 

It all changed my life.


	3. Don't Cry For Me 2002

*****2002*****

We were labelled the 'problem-children' at school. Our fathers were abusers or criminals or out of the country, our mothers were alcoholics or overpowering or dead. It was the typical story. At age nine I was locked in a cupboard and raped by my father. At age ten, I went to court for kidnapping a girl in the class below me and playing 'doctors' with her. Because of my upbringing I was intolerant to anyone's imperfections. The girl was fat. She had fillings and braces. To my young mind, that meant she wasn't human. She had no thoughts or feelings. I couldn't conceive that she was a person. Some say my mind is sick and twisted. 

Mum says it's just the drugs, dear. 

Sure I abused the drugs, but I convinced myself that I wasn't addicted - I could have stopped if I wanted to. It was the same as when your alarm went off waaaaaay too early after a hard night. It would take nothing to get up if you wanted to. Just plant two feet on the floor and stand. But you really **didn't** want to. The alarm would re-set itself. You knew that and it was completely your choice. So you succumb to the warm comforts of your cocoon for 30 more minutes, all the time telling yourself that you could easily rise this instant if you wanted……but with this great feeling, and the general shitiness of the world outside your warm bed……you **don't** want to.

After time, the world around you becomes shitier and the warm feeling becomes better and better. It is less of a struggle and more one sided when you choose to stay in bed longer than before. You wake to the buzzing of your alarm and lie, paralysed, listening to the pretty little sound it makes. Buzzz buzzzzz. Nice. You don't even need to turn off the buzzing before…Zzzzz…you surrender once more to the great power of your bed.

In the end, your alarm doesn't even wake you. 

I never let our 'game' come to an end…though sometimes I wish I had. Like Steve and Craig, my mind would now be at rest. But that didn't seem right. Even in my dreams I am awake. I never wanted to rest. I never wanted death. 

Now our 'game' is my nightmare. _Treatment facilities, therapists, hospitals, detox centres, psych wards, support groups, prison…_ I have ruined friendships, destroyed trust, broken promises, stolen, lied, cheated, killed and become a person who I hate with all of my being. This is my living nightmare. A haunting, elusive wraith that tortures my mind…..

_"Quick NOW!!!!!!!!" _

The words will forever echo in my head. Peace doesn't come to the undeserving.

…._"QUICK **NOW**!" _………………__


	4. Don't Cry For Me 1980

*****1980*****

My surroundings were a messy haze before Steve's van screeched to a halt outside the primary school, but his words were loud and clear.

 "Quick, NOW!"

I scampered out of the back as Steve headed straight for our bitch teacher. "Grab the kids too!" I heard Craig's voice through the thick fog in my mind.

There were three children waiting outside of the school with their teacher. All of them small, pretty and brunette - the kind of girls who would keep away from our type. They looked like sisters. Sisters…

The eldest, of about 11 years of age, reached for her siblings protectively and screamed at Craig as he tore the silent middle child from her grasp. I roughly grabbed the other two struggling sisters from behind and felt a dull, throbbing pain as the shoe of the eldest girl connected forcefully with my groin. 

"Fuckin' little fuc-ken shitt." I stuttered my curses and swaggered back towards the van, roughly grasping the eldest child's face in the palm of my hand and pushing her head into the side of the vehicle. I shoved the two girls in the back of the van and clumsily reached for the rope to tie up our four prisoners. 


	5. Don't Cry For Me 2002

*****2002*****

I remember very little of the event and the days leading up to it. Confusing thoughts, mixed-up memories, muffled commands, alcohol, LSD, smack, pot, Eccy, coke……….nothing but the drugs are clear in my mind. So many to choose from, so little time…

Now my cell is damp and hard. All choice has been removed. I am a prisoner of the state and a prisoner of myself. 

All choice removed except one - 

Spaghetti and juice. That was my choice. My mother threw a surprise spaghetti and juice party for me on my fifth birthday. I couldn't think of anything I wanted more for my last meal. I dreamed of being innocent again. Maybe I was never innocent. I haven't a clue…the only truth I know is the meal sitting in front of me, and the thoughts swimming through my head. I could see my friends. Spaghetti covered faces, juicy fingers. And me. 

Smiling. Laughing. Happy. 

I see us now. The lawyers, the checkout workers, the dole bludgers, and me. 

Intolerant. Stressed. Ignorant. 

Growing up is harsh. It should be banned. 


	6. Don't Cry For Me 1980

*****1980*****

The eldest child was just rousing and re-entering consciousness as we screeched into the old warehouse. The youngest sister, who looked about 6 years old, sat trembling in the eldest's lap and was screaming and crying over the sounds of the traffic. The middle child hadn't spoken or moved since Craig had grabbed her. 

The actions that followed are a blur. I can remember Mrs Williams knocking Craig unconscious when he opened the van door, and then coming after me. I can see the struggling, hear the screaming and taste the blood. But I have no memory of my hand plunging the knife into her stomach and taking her life. I have no memory…….

"Holy fuck, Holy FUCK!! You killed 'er, man. Good one." Steve's sarcastic words were caked with sick pleasure. "Quick, take those two kids inside before they squeal." He motioned towards the youngest and the eldest child who were closest to me. Lock 'em in the smallest room. I'll deal with fuck face an' the other kid 'ere."

"No!!!! Don't touch my sister!" The eldest child was now fully conscious and back into protective mode. She broke free from my grip and ran forward, pushing Steve's hand away from her sister.

Steve sniggered. "Would you rather me touch **you?!" **He lunged forwards and roughly groped the eldest's chest. The girl choked on a sob and squirmed, hugging herself tightly. She turned away and glared towards me as Steve forcefully grabbed her arms from behind. 

"Don't you dare let him take her!" Her voice was bold despite her panicked breathing.

I smirked as Steve pushed the girl to her knees and tied her ropes around the body of Mrs Williams. Her face grew pale as her young skin came in contact with the bloodied flesh of her dead teacher. "Fine then. You stay right here now." Steve taunted her as I tossed him the knife in case she caused any more trouble.

I jumped slightly when I felt the warm hands of the middle sister hold onto my forearm. 

"Git 'em out of 'ere!" Steve ordered. I stood, fixated by the hands on my arm and the look of pain on the eldest sister's face.

She sniffed, and once again directed her speech towards me.

"You're only a kid..."

I struggled with her words, forcing them out of my mind. I'm only a kid……I'm only a kid…I just killed my teacher…shutup!

"Will you cry for me?" 

Her voice was surprisingly empty. I shook my head, dismissing her question and forcefully lifted her sisters into my arms. The youngest was screaming again and the middle sister was gazing longingly at her big sister's eyes, yet to make a sound. The eldest child's voice became distressed as I carried her sisters away. It rose and cracked as she desperately called after me.

"Will you cry for me when I die?! Will you cry???"

She was silenced by a swift kick in the stomach from Steve. He smirked. 

"That woz payback for getting m' friend earlier." 


	7. Don't Cry For Me 2003

*****2002*****

My childhood friends now hold my life in their hands. The lawyers, the checkout workers, the dole bludgers…

I wonder, do they know my name? The people standing triumphantly on the other side of the glass….do they know what my favourite colour is? The lawyers, the checkout workers, the dole bludgers; do they remember what I dreamed of becoming when I grew up? Does anybody care what makes me laugh? Do they care that I'm only 38?

…The lawyers, the checkout workers, the dole bludgers, and me…

….It should be a song. 

If only life were a song.

If only….


	8. Don't Cry For Me 1980

*****1980*****

"Flow gently sweet Afton among thy green braes, flow gently I'll sing thee a song in thy praise…"

Her voice was pure and as soft as velvet, and the sweet tune broke the silence of the night. She held her sister in her small arms despite the rope bonds, and rocked her gently as she sung.

"My Mary's asleep by thy murmuring stream, flow gently sweet Afton disturb not her dream." 

"That's a pretty song." I interrupted the usually silent middle child causing a small gasp to escape from her ruby lips. Painful images danced across her wide eyes as she stared upwards at me, finally daring to whisper a reply.

"My mom used to sing it to me." 

I kneeled before her, stroking the chestnut hair of her sleeping sister in the dark, confined room. "You'll be hearing it again real soon," I assured the 9 year old child.

Her eyes darted from my hand to my face, alarm and fear emitting from her features. I withdrew my hand and spoke again in a low voice. "Steve is letting you guys go tomorrow. All of ya. Your mom can sing it anytime you want then."

Poignant chocolate eyes lowered and gazed longingly into nothingness.

"Mommy died." The voice was barely audible. Her simple words held the power to open the floodgates of the human heart and cause a forceful gush of pity to flow rapidly.  It was at that moment that I felt with certainty the only twinge of fear that would ever break through my stone heart. As if the position of power had shifted, the middle sister captured my eyes with her own and spoke again.

 "You shouldn't have hurt Mrs Williams."

I was silent. 

"You can't hold a person's life in your hands." The mature words seemed to swirl and flow from her tongue, not ineptly as they would if she were unconvinced of her speech. 

"You're going to get into trouble."

She was neither taunting, nor threatening me. Her delicate voice held a certainty that was mirrored by the look in her eyes. I could only stare, spellbound by the conviction possessed by such a young being.

"Shut the fuck up, twit." The gruff voice from behind me caused the compassionate child to jump. Craig stood in the doorway watching us, his looming silhouette a torturous monster to the child. Stray wisps of smoke frolicked and danced from the corners of his smirk. 

"You joining us sometime today, ma'am?" He provoked me, indicating towards the doorway with his head while holding out his arm and revealing the clearly visible track marks.

The stench of weed was overwhelming as it seductively taunted my nostrils. My eyes were drawn back to the child and locked with her own. The expressive gaze was drowning me in sympathy. Confused over the events that had just taken place, I stepped backwards and silently demanded she release me from her controlling stare. I shook my head and spat at my feet. 

Then, I left the small room and securely locked the door behind me. Once again, I surrendered to the game.


	9. Don't Cry For Me 2002 FINAL

*****2002*****

It was only a chair. Sure, the straps were intimidating, but a chair. Nobody dreams that this is the way they will die. They may have images of a grand, noble passing. Others pray for a soft, comfortable bed. A sweet, natural death to celebrate a sweet, natural life.

But to celebrate the life of a murderer?

….The chair will have to do.

I glanced through the glass and focussed on two beautiful, dark haired women. They were sisters. They were **the **sisters.****

The eldest was gone. I became aware of her violent death almost 20 years after we released her and her sisters from our grievous game. I wonder how she would be feeling right now. Would she have been happy to know that Steve and Craig both ODed and died only days after I made my confession and turned myself in? I wonder what she would think. I wonder if she realised how much her tiny sisters mourned for her the day she sacrificed herself to protect them. How they prayed for her to be with them and how she didn't answer their prayers. 

I wonder if she knows that I cried for her…

The youngest turned her head. Her smooth features were hard, void of any emotion, yet her tears flowed freely down her cheeks. The middle sibling snaked her arm around her younger sister's shoulder, once again comforting her at the loss of their protector. 

I locked eyes with the compassionate one for the last time. Her chocolate eyes were smooth and expressive and trapped me under her spell once again. I nodded slightly, never breaking eye contact. She was right. I shouldn't have hurt my teacher and I was now going to pay the penalty. I signalled my surrender and allowed her to claim victory. Her gaze was penetrating and she held me in place during my last moments.

So that was my life.

So this is my future.

What I wouldn't give to be 17 again. 

What I wouldn't give for anything right now. 

What I wouldn't give….

I shuddered and allowed my eyelids to drop.

Death.

………_silence_………………__


End file.
